


Continued Studies in Art History, 2013

by Nutriyum_Addict



Series: Written for the Parksandrec Kinkmeme [1]
Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: F/M, Roleplay, Smut, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-02
Updated: 2014-07-02
Packaged: 2018-02-07 02:48:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1882227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nutriyum_Addict/pseuds/Nutriyum_Addict
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Way back in college, Ben tried a very cheesy line on a girl once at a party. Leslie decides to give him a second chance to get it right. Hijinks, light role-play, and nailing against a wall ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the kinkmeme prompt: "you are you a piece of art, bc id like to nail you against a wall." There are three parts here instead of the original five (all the same text, though).
> 
> Timeline: Season Five, after _Leslie and Ben_.

They were crowded together on Leslie's side of the bed, because his side had gotten a bit...messy. And so Ben was spooned right up next to her (not that he really wanted to be anywhere else), about to answer a silly, late-night question--the most cringe-worthy pick-up line he'd ever used--while trying to avoid the wet spot on their tangled up bedding.

Sadly, unlike during a lot of their sleepy, nonsensical, post-coital conversations, he didn't have to give this question a lot of thought. It was certainly no, _If there was a raccoon invasion and you could only take five items when you fled, what would they be?_ That one took some time to ruminate about and he still was going back and forth on the possessions that would escape the raccoon-apocalypse with him.

Nope. Cheesiest pick-up line he could put right out there. "You are a piece of art, because I'd like to nail you against a wall," he answered, blushing just a bit and self-consciously turning his head to hide it in the side of Leslie's neck. Nineteen years later and he was still slightly mortified.

"Really? And that worked?" She pulled back to stare at him dubiously, trying not to laugh. "You seriously--

"Oh, no. No. No. Not at all. In fact, I had to start sitting on the other side of the lecture hall the following week because I was so embarrassed to be anywhere near her after that party."

Leslie laughed freely this time. "Oh, poor Ben. Or maybe I should say--what was her name again?"

"Heather," he said quickly, then added with a shy grin, "I think."

She giggled. "Right. Well, poor Heather--if that was her name. And she was a tall brunette?"

"Not at all. She was blonde. She would wear these really short dresses, with big Doc Martens, black rimmed glasses, and red lipstick. She was in my Intro to Art History class winter quarter."

"Ahhh..."

"Right? See. It was all related. I thought it was a very witty line."

"And she...slapped you?"

"No. She made a very annoyed face and said, _Are you serious?_ and then walked away in what I interpreted then, and still do now, as a mix of pity and disgust."

"Oh. Well, that's kind of...sad. I'm no longer on team Heather."

"Wait a minute," he pulled back to look at her kind of incredulously. "You're sorry that I didn't hook-up with my crush from art history class during sophomore year of college?"

"Well, sure. As long as you would have broken up with her, still moved to Indiana, eventually accepted a job with the state auditor's office, and ended up in Pawnee to try and machete my Parks Department. And I'm definitely sorry that she made you feel embarrassed. Heather is stupid."

"Yeah," Ben agreed, smiling and spooning closer to his cuddly, naked wife. "Stupid Heather."

"She obviously had no idea what a taut and sexy elf king she was turning down. Or how good you were at...nailing."

"Well, thank you for that. But, to be fair, I was not doing my best work at 19. And it _was_ a pretty cheesy line--honestly, I didn't deserve to get laid for that."

Leslie smiled in agreement, absentmindedly running her fingers across his stomach, when he asked her, "What about you?"

"Girls don't really use lines. But this one time--"

"Yeah?"

"I gave this cute accounting-type nerd all my travel receipts. He practically jumped me right then and there."

Ben laughed warmly, went in for a kiss, and then replied, "That is entirely true."


	2. Chapter 2

When he got home from the Sweetums Foundation on Wednesday night, there was a note taped on the wall, just inside the door. Well, it was more of an invitation really, in Leslie's distinctive, flowing script. Complete with black glitter around the edges of the heavy ivory cardstock. Apparently, he was invited to a party in Leslie's craft room and the invitation requested that he be in appropriate 1994 attire.

Over their time together, Ben had gotten used to surprises like this. So, without batting an eye and with 10 minutes to spare, he quietly slipped into their bedroom. He exchanged his suit for a pair of jeans, a black t-shirt, and tied a plaid flannel shirt around his waist. But when he couldn't find his Docs, he settled on some well-worn blue sneakers. Ben didn't get his boots until the end of junior year anyway, so this was more historically accurate.

He had an inkling of where this was going and although he was looking forward to whatever she had in mind, he was also starting to get a little concerned that he would open the door to the party and be faced with a bunch of drunk college kids that he would have to usher out of their home. Sometimes Leslie got a bit carried away and her attention to detail was, while completely inspiring, a little impractical at times.

The question really wasn't could she round up a bunch of college kids on a Wednesday afternoon with the promise of free beer (yes), but rather, would she? He hoped not. Especially if this was going where he thought this might be headed.

At the appointed time, he walked across the hall to her craft room, took a deep breath, and stepped inside. Ben smiled.

She had tidied up a bit (a lot)--all of the boxes were stacked to one side of the room and the wall she was standing near was clear except for the Diaphena painting that was hanging to one side, behind her sewing table.

Leslie's back was to him like she was studying the painting and from this viewpoint he could very much appreciate the way her blue and white checked dress loosely hung just past her hips, it's short length revealing a whole lot of leg. His eyes followed down to little white ruffle-topped socks sticking up out of...

"Are those my Docs?"

She turned around and Ben kind of forgot how to breathe, let alone care about Leslie borrowing his boots.

The red lipstick, the black Lisa Loeb-inspired glasses, the white collared dress that clung to her full breasts tightly and then flowed out until it ended mid-thigh. It was almost like he was right back there at that house party near his dorm, but this was so much better because this was Leslie.

Plus, he was pretty sure this evening was going to end on a decidedly more positive note than him walking home alone in the snow and then jerking off in his room.

"Ben Wyatt," she smiled warmly at him, like she was truly excited to see him. She motioned for him to come towards her and then handed him a red plastic cup full of beer. "Aren't you in my Art History 102 class? With Professor Hicks?"

"I--wait, um, I think that was the instructor's name. How did you--?"

"You mean that is our instructor's name? Yes, it is. But anyway, it's nice to see you here. At this party, Ben from Art History class."

He smiled and she grinned back, watching as she took a sip of her beer. Because of course Leslie would have researched who was teaching Introduction to Art History 102, during Winter Quarter 1994 at Carleton College.

"I don't usually go out on a Wednesday night...uh, Heather, but my roommate dragged me here," he admitted, getting into it and moving closer to her. "I should be home studying for our art mid-term right now."

"Hmmmm, maybe we should study together sometime?" She responded, giving him a sexy, pouty stare. She motioned to the painting, "You know, our art class is making me appreciate paintings I see outside of the lecture hall more and more. I like this one a lot. You can really feel her strength. Plus the chubby baby makes me laugh."

"It's one of my favorites too," he agreed. They smiled at each other for a few seconds and then he moved in for a kiss but she pulled back.

"Don't you have something to tell me first?"

He waited a beat. "You're seriously going to make me say it?"

"How do you know if it will work or not if you don't try."

"Umm...I know it won't work."

She shook her head impatiently. "I don't think you do. In fact, I think you'd be very surprised at how wet Heather gets from cheesy pick-up lines. I bet her pussy would get positively soaked from a good art-related, sexually-charged, ice breaker right about now."

At his shocked look, Leslie added, "It's the early 90s and Heather likes to use the word _pussy_ because she's into re-appropriating explicit sexual terms for her vagina as a form of feminist power."

He groaned. "Of course she is."

"But I guess you'll never find any of that out unless you say...you-know-what," she teased with a smirk, poking him lightly on the chest. She leaned in and whispered, "babe, trust me. This is a sure thing here." Then she pulled back and stared at him expectantly, already back in character.

Ben met her stare for a few more seconds, then reached for her beer and was momentarily pleased to note that Leslie was still wearing her engagement and wedding rings, although it certainly wasn't an accurate detail for this little scenario.

He sighed, set both of their cups down on the table and stepped in really close and said, hardly above a throaty whisper, "You are a piece of art. Because I'd like to nail you against a wall." He then walked her back slowly, the tips of his converse sneakers touching against the tips of her worn leather boots with each step, until she was pressed flat against the brightly-painted surface, before he added, "This wall, to be exact."


	3. Chapter 3

She was on him the minute the last word left his lips. Her mouth crushed against his, as her ams wrapped around his neck. There was nothing tentative or shy about the way Leslie kissed him. It certainly wasn't a first kiss or even the kiss of an aloof, brazen girl that he never even got to know so long ago--it was a Leslie Knope kiss, pure and simple.

"You know, Ben. I'd see you in class and I'd think about doing this to you." And with that, she slowly slid her back down the wall, until her face was even with the crotch of his pants. Leslie then united his flannel shirt so that it fell to the floor, and started to unzip his jeans.

"Fuck. Okay. That is not necessary. And most definitely not at all accurate."

"Well, I'm embellishing a bit," she explained. Once she'd freed his growing erection from his boxers, she slid her tongue along the tip, then she stopped. "I'm sorry, but these have to go. They feel weird when I'm doing this," she pulled the black frames from her face and handed them up to Ben.

"They're cute, but I'm fine with you losing the glasses," he assured her, as he tossed them on the table.

Because he knew her so well, he was very aware that Leslie sometimes got annoyed (not truly annoyed, certainly, more like eye-rolling, amusedly annoyed) with him when he broke character too soon. He assumed this would be the case even if the character was his 19 year-old self. Of course, Ben had no intention of calling her Heather at this point, while she was...doing this, but he also tried to keep the Leslie's that were threatening to roll off his tongue reigned in--at least for now. But as she licked, touched, and sucked her way around his dick, it was getting more and more difficult to do that. And when her fingers nimbly started stroking his balls...good lord.

He lightly gripped her shoulder, panted out, "Please. Come back up here. I'm 38, not 19--if you keep doing that, then there's probably not going to be any nailing for awhile."

She giggled and gripped his hands while she made her way up, smiling brightly at him.

"I've thought about doing things to you too, you know," he admitted, once she was on her feet again, back pressed against the wall.

"Things, huh?"

"Uh-huh. Lots of things."

"Do these things involve touching my--"

"Yes," he cut her off, because although it was hot and admittedly working for him, Leslie suddenly throwing around the word pussy so freely in her made-up, Heather-persona sort of threw him just a little.

His turn now, he took his time exploring her. First he palmed a breast through the soft cotton fabric of her dress, relishing the way her breathing changed when his thumb slid back and forth over her hardened nipple slowly.

Soon, his hands wandered down her fabric-covered hips and slid up slowly, taking her short dress as he went, feeling nothing but soft, warm skin. He moved his palm to the front and cupped her mound and she spread her legs apart, giving him room to slide his fingers through her extremely wet, velvety folds.

Ohhhh, god," he paused, almost as if his brain was on a few seconds delay and finally made the connection. "You're not wearing anything under this."

"Nope. It seemed like it would be too hard to get anything off over these huge boots. So...I thought this would save time." She giggled, looking super pleased with herself.

"Jesus," he looked down, watching his hand as it moved against her while she held her dress up for him, bunched up high at her waist. He grabbed one of her legs and hoisted it up, gripping the back of her thigh, spreading her open even wider. He easily slipped one, then two fingers into her.

"Wow. That line really did it for for you, huh?" He teased.

"Well, I've been hanging out in here for the last half hour or so waiting for you. Without underwear on. Thinking about you touching me and then fucking me against the wall. So...there's that. Mostly that. I think I got a pretty good head start."

He moaned at her words and finally made contact with her clit--circled it, rubbed back and forth in the pattern-less rhythm he knew she liked. He started kissing her neck, licking and nipping at the sensitive skin there, only to then move to her lips, teasing with an almost-kiss, but he stopped before making contact. There was only one person he wanted to do this with.

"Don't you dare expect me to actually call you Heather during the rest of this. Because that is not going to happen."

"Yeah. Okay," she agreed, nodding, smiling, and leaning into his lips.

"Leslie," he affirmed right before he kissed her, enjoying he feel of her mouth against his as she pushed her hips towards his fingers. Within minutes of this play, Ben lifted her up easily, impaling her on his cock in one swoop, bracing her back into the wall as he pushed slowly up into her and she ground her hips down to meet him.

It's nothing to trap Leslie between himself and the wall, his hands just below her ass, holding her up by the back of her thighs while he thrusted into her. Although she was somewhat limited by her position, she angled her hips to meet him, gasping and moaning on each thrust. As they moved together, Ben's eyes followed her hand, as it pushed her dress back up and she worked it down to where they were joined and started to touch her clit. He shuddered as he watched, mesmerized. He loved it when she touched herself--almost as much as when he was the one doing the touching.

There was a _thump_ as one of his too-big boots fell off her right foot, interrupting their grunts and moans.

"I...didn't tie them...very tight at all," Leslie gasped out. "I...may lose the other one too." But she wrapped her legs tighter around him anyway, and he could feel the remaining Doc Marten hitting just below where his jeans and boxers were shoved down.

Lost in the moment, Ben couldn't believe there was ever a time when he wanted anyone but her. He really had spent all those years traveling around various Indiana towns searching everywhere for...this. The smart, funny, giving, sexy, passionate, whirlwind of a woman...whom he was currently pounding against one of the walls in their house.

He could feel her legs tensing around him, as her movements got erratic. Leslie tightened and clenched around him, her orgasm making her shudder and cry out as he held her tight while she shook and spasmed with pleasure. And when he followed seconds later, thrusting hard into her wet softness, he muffled his grunts against the skin of her neck.

Eventually, Ben's grip on the back of her thighs slowly loosened and she was deposited back on the floor. For a few minutes, they just stood still, both of them leaning against the wall for support.

Leslie broke the silence. "So, did that make up for your cheesy pick-up line disaster?"

He laughed. "Um, yes. But there's really nothing to make up for. I had a crush on someone a long time ago who had no interest in me. And I embarrassed myself at a party." Shrugging, he continued, "Besides, I just met this other girl. Really cute. Appreciates fine art. And most importantly--doesn't wear panties."

"Mmmmmm," Leslie sighed and moved her face close to his, while he met her halfway. "She sounds like a keeper. And very practical when it comes to planning craft room sexcapades." The thick sole from the one Doc gave her enough height so if she stretched up just a tiny bit, (and he leaned down a bit), they could lightly rub noses together.

"I love you."

"Love you too. Now take off my other boot, please.


End file.
